


You Can Hear It In the Silence

by Mimiminaj



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Senior year, Slow Burn, Songfic, Stiles Takes Care Of Derek, Summer, oblivious! stiles, you are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4082203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimiminaj/pseuds/Mimiminaj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles focused on Derek’s face long enough to see a flicker of regret flash across it. Good. Serves him right for throwing him against a brick wall. </p>
<p>Stiles felt his back hit said well, and he went limp as Derek worked his coat closed. </p>
<p>“I don’t think you can take me to the hospital though, Derek.”</p>
<p>The hands stilled. </p>
<p>“And why is that?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think they allow dogs.”</p>
<p>“I’m going to kill you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Hear It In the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Because 'You are in Love' was made to be a Sterek fic, just like most T-Swift songs.

“Hey, you okay?”

Derek looks up, eyebrows already starting to furrow. Stiles would bet good money that Derek was planning on just sneaking away out the back door now that their convoy had made it back to Scott’s house.

“Yeah?” Derek says as if it were a question. Almost as if it’s questionable that Stiles is even asking.

Stiles scoffs. “You almost died dude.” He felt that the _almost died for Scott_ goes unsaid.

“So? You’ve seen me almost die a handful of times.”

Stiles raises his own eyebrows. See, he could be expressive too.

“Well then. Sorry I checked to see how you were doing. Won’t make that mistake again.”

He begins to leave but Derek’s hand shoots out and stops him. Stiles glances at the hand on his arm before glancing back at Derek.

“Sorry. Thank you for asking. Umm…I’m okay. I’m great. I can fucking turn into a wolf now, yippee.”

Derek lets go of his arm, and Stiles watches as Derek shoves them into his jacket after looking suitably awkward with them hanging there.  

“Yeah, first a true alpha and now a true wolf. All of my canine jokes are going to get that much better.”

Derek is still studying him, eyes slightly furrowed in a _why are you talking to me right now_ way.

“Listen...I just…you seriously looked dead dude. Like gapping hole in the chest and eyes glazing over, the whole nine yards…. I just wanted you to know that...you totally belong in this pack. In case you didn’t know. So…yeah.”

A flicker of emotion crosses Derek’s face, to quick for him to name. He does a quick jerk of his head. Stiles has absolutely no idea what to make of it.

“All right everybody,” Scott’s voice cuts through the living room and Stiles turns. Kira is wiping blood off Malia’s face on the sofa while Mrs. McCall is checking Liam for any injuries. It’s probably more for Melisa’s sake than Liam’s.

“Everybody’s made it back. Be safe on your way home.”

Stiles turns back around but Derek is already almost to the door. Before he opens it though, he looks over his shoulder and right at Stiles. The smallest hint of a smile crosses his face and for a second, a quick split second, Stiles can’t breathe.

He’s glad Derek didn’t die.

* * *

 

Derek texts him a week later, asking Stiles if he could research flea repellent and find out what is the best brand. After laughing for five solid minutes, Stiles agrees.

It’s not weird when Stiles joins him two days later to journey to Pets-Mart. It would be way too funny of a story to miss out on. And when Stiles took a picture of the face Derek made as he picked up _Frontline_? Well, at least he would have black mail material for the next couple of months.

* * *

 

“Hey my favorite furry friend! Ready to get some human food?”

He bounded into Derek’s Camaro with way more energy then was necessary at midnight. It was probably due to that red bull he had had earlier (which, yes, he knows he’s not allowed to have but he wanted to be hyper vigilant for this stake out mission).

He flashed Derek a huge grin and was not deterred in the slightest when he was met with Derek’s glare. Or more likely just his resting bitch face. That was probably it.

“I am not a dog. Therefore your dog jokes are not funny.”

Stiles hums. “If it looks like a dog and walks on four feet it is probably a dog.”

“I’m going to pull over.”

“We have a mission to accomplish though!”

“Quietly.”

“What?”

“We have to be quiet for the mission.”

A second passes before Stiles bursts out laughing. “No really, how do you keep a straight face? It’s a talent, dude. You could go into stand up if you were funny.”

Now that was a glare. Stiles totally did not preen on the inside.

Stiles being Stiles, he couldn’t handle more than a few minutes of silence.

“So how’s the frontline working out?”

Derek huffed. “Fine.”

“Does it hurt to shift?”

“No. It’s like shifting before but…different.”

_Oh my God_ , Stiles thought _, making small talk with Derek was the worst._

“Okayyy, care to elaborate? Different how?”

“It’s like my muscles become gel before reshaping into the wolves’.”

Stiles thought about that for a second before nodding. Hmm. Fair.

Luckily for Stiles, his mind took him on a tangent of gel muscles that could easily reform into anything that distracted him from the silent car ride. That is until –

“So…uh, how was your week?”

Oh god. Derek was _actually trying_ to make small talk.

“It was, uh, good! Only a few more weeks of summer to soak in! God, than it’s senior year. Fucking crazy.”

“What colleges are you looking at?”

“Well I sent my applications to a few places already. But my dream school would be Berkeley.”

Derek nods his head. “That’s not to far.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. I mean…it would be weird to be to far away from my dad. And I think Scott’s staying close and I’ll want to be near for anything with the pack.”

Derek nods again but doesn’t say anything. It’s not for another five long and silent minutes until he responds.

“I went to NYU a few years ago. It was great.”

He feels like he knew this information from somewhere.

“Man, I bet that would have been a blast. New York seems like a great city.”

They don’t talk again until they are sitting down in a corner booth of the diner. But, with the menu in front of Stiles, his mouth starts to run free. 

“I’m totally thinking breakfast for dinner, you? Oh shit, look at their Mushroom and Swiss though, that shit’s loaded. I wonder how much it is to upgrade the fries. Have you ever – why aren’t you reading your menu?”

Derek, with his menu turned down and to his side, was staring blank faced at Stiles while he was twirling his thumbs.

“Creepy,” Stiles stated.

“I’m trying to be patient.”

“You’re staring.”

“Well I’m not going to stare at _other_ people.”

“Like I don’t think you’ve looked away for more than a minute.”

“That’s normal. Most people can hold eye contact.”

“Oh my God dude look away you’re making me feel weird!”

Derek face palmed and sighed. Again, Stiles totally didn’t preen.

“Are you gentlemen ready?” The waitress asked, stopping and giving Derek a longer look than was necessary. Uh, Derek was the worst wingman ever.

“No, he’s not, he hasn’t even opened his m-”

“I am completely ready to order, thank you,” Derek cuts him off, and Stiles has to hold in a glare.

“I’ll just have a coffee. Black is fine.” _Of course_.

Feeling totally betrayed, Stiles put down his menu. “I suppose I’ll just have a coffee too please. Cream and sugar would be great.”

Derek raises an eyebrow as they give back their menus. Stiles broke.

“Okay fine I totally want a double order of your chocolate chip pancakes too! Sorry!”

The waitress seemed a little startled; eyes wide yet squinted at the same time before she nodded.

“I hate you.”

Derek grinned. “No you don’t”

Stiles sort of did, thirty minutes later as they were walking out of the dinner, when Derek went all martyr on him and flung him to the side before the fairy could grab him. Which was seriously dumb, as Stiles had the serum ready that would kill it and he was totally okay with a broken arm if that meant getting the liquid in the damn thing.

Of course, the alternative, Derek pushing him away, didn’t quite end well what with his head hitting the back of the wall rather roughly. He fell towards the ground and couldn’t quite catch himself as everything was spinning.

“Fuck you, Derek,” he grunted, trying to right himself up. Weird noises were coming from all around him, until all of a sudden a horrible squeal filled the air. Everything went quiet.

“What the fuck is happening,” Stiles murmured. Hands wrapped around his armpits and pulled him up. Because the world hated him, he was graceless on his feet; falling forward into a very hard chest.

“Stiles, Stiles look at me.”

Derek’s face stopped spinning after a few seconds. That was a good sign. He said all this out loud.

“Come on, you might have a concussion, we’re getting you to a hospital.”

“Is it dead?”

“Yeah.”

“You pushed me against a wall.”

“Sorry.”

“But are you?”

“No. It was going to kill you.”

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you button up my coat? My hands won’t seem to move right.”

Stiles focused on Derek’s face long enough to see a flicker of regret flash across it. Good. Serves him right for throwing him against a brick wall.

Stiles felt his back hit said well, and he went limp as Derek worked his coat closed.

“I don’t think you can take me to the hospital though, Derek.”

The hands stilled.

“And why is that?”

“I don’t think they allow dogs.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

* * *

 

Going back to Mexico was the last thing Stiles ever wanted to do.

“I don’t get it. Why do we all have to go? I literally only had one thing I wanted to do today, and that was play _Bloodborne_. Now guess where I’m going? To fucking Mexico, because why? I don’t fucking know why!”

“Stiles,” Liam snapped from the row in front of him, “I’m going to lose control and claw your face off if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Which. Probably only 80 percent kidding. Liam still didn’t have a stellar track record with keeping his abilities in check.

Derek, from the driver’s seat of this stupid mini van, sighed. “We all need to go because we need to seem like a strong, connected pack. People will trust us more if we seem unified.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not excited to go to what is basically the equivalent of the supernatural black market,” Scott said from in front of him.

“I can pretend if I want to.” Stiles mumbled, before punching his pillow and (loudly and obnoxiously) settling down for the remainder of the car ride.

Stiles ate his words not three hours later.

The market was expansive. It was underneath an abandoned building some twenty miles away from the Mexican border, near the village of Acuna.

Stiles was told by a particularly chatty merchant that the whole place was protected by runes, with a spell that repelled anybody that didn’t already know of the market and was purposefully seeking it out. Not for the first time, Stiles wondered if J.K Rowling actually knew of the supernatural world.

He had a very hard time keeping his hands to himself. Small jars filled with floating eyes and what looked like muscle tissue lined almost every tent. He was told that the eyes would automatically pinpoint anybody who had ill intentions. Not only that, but the muscle tissue would turn blue if anything was being stolen around the market place.

Runes upon runes were found in a particular section of the marketplace, and the rest of the pack had to actively separate Stile and that particular seller. He was this close to giving away half the money he saved on college to get a rune that shined yellow when someone was thinking about you.

Derek, on the other hand, wasn’t so frugal with his money. Stiles finally found out what was in the brief case he had been carrying around, as he brought out 1,375,000 dollars to buy eight rings.

The merchant was beyond flabbergasted, having said that it took her 12 years of rituals and enchantments to have created the eight rings she had on sale, and that the last time she sold one (as they were more than 150,000 a piece) was two years ago.

Stiles couldn’t believe his eyes when Derek passed over the stacks of a hundred dollar bills, nor when Derek started passing out a ring to each of the six of them.

“No way,” Stiles muttered, refusing to take it. “I’m not going to let you spend 150,000 dollars on me. This is crazy.”

“Stiles, you’re going to fucking take this, and your never going to take it off.”

“Derek, jeez, no! That’s so much…”

“You must live a very dangerous life young man,” the merchant cackled with glee, seemingly joyful over her profit.

“Um, excuse me?” Stiles looked between Derek’s glare and the merchants (slightly alarming) grin.

“These rings are made from the same recipe that the ancient _Arammpelicor_ rings were made of. They help the wearer survive even the closest brushes of death. Of course, it will just prolong your demise, if help doesn’t come with the time given to you by these rings.”

Stiles looked back at Derek with wide eyes.

“Please Stiles, don’t fight me on this.”

His hands shook when he held them out, and he quickly closed around the ring when Derek placed it against his skin.

“How do you…how do you know it works?”

“Peter was wearing one the night of…that’s how he survived.”

A rush of emotion surged through Stiles, and he had to quickly look away and blink his eyes rapidly before he did something stupid. When he looked back up, Derek was shaking hands with the Merchant one last time before continuing on down the aisle.

He was about to rejoin his pack when the Merchant stopped him.

“Let me see your ring, dear.”

After slipping it on his finger, he slowly brought his hand up to her face. It made her smile.

“He gave you the strongest one.”

Stiles eyebrows rose.

“What, excuse me? How do you know? Does he know?”

The lady cackled gleefully again.

“Anybody who is going to buy _Arammpelicor_ rings will know how they are used my dear boy. And besides, that one cost the most.”

Stiles felt a bit queasy as he drew his hand back and cradled it to his chest.

“Thank you,” he murmured before scurrying along and trying to catch his friends.

It was because he was the awkward, flailing human of the pack, Stiles told himself.

 

* * *

 

After buying the bullets that would put down their current Wendigo problem in Beacon Hills, they were on the road again and aiming for a midnight return.

Stiles was twirling the ring on his finger (something he had unconsciously been doing ever since he put it on) when the car gave a few spurts, jerks, and than promptly shut down.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lydia turned her head to Derek and raised her eyebrows. “You’re seriously fucking kidding me, aren’t you?”

Stiles was unsurprised when Derek’s bitch face easily matched Lydia’s. “Yes Lydia, I planned this. Actually wired my car so that it would shut down.”

“Don’t joke about that Derek,” Kira spoke up, “it wouldn’t be the first time you did it.”

Derek sighed (very loudly) before opening his door, proceeding to slam it shut and head around to pop the front.

Stiles sat idly for all of two minutes, looking out at the still desert landscape around him before he quickly got out and murmured something about going to the bathroom.

He walked until he couldn’t quite tell his friends’ faces apart before stopping and taking a piss. He closed his eyes and listened. If he tried really hard, he could hear Scott and Liam bickering and the sound of the car attempting (and failing) to be restarted.

He looked down at the ground around him and suddenly thought about rattlesnakes. He quickly scanned all around him and turned around to look behind him when he literally jumped in the air and was only kept from falling by Derek’s arms catching his shoulders.

“Fuck you…you’re the worst…thought…human rattlesnake….dead,” Stiles gasped, still clutching his heart and doubling over. He barley heard Derek say, to know one in particular, “he’s fine, just scared of his own shadow.”

“Asshole.” When Stiles straightened up, he tried to give Derek his best bitch face. Derek seemed unfazed. “Aren’t you supposed to be fixing the van?”

“Kira’s just going to jump it. She’s charging up now.”

“Ugh,” Stiles looked away, belatedly realizing his fingers had found his ring again and quickly jerked his hand away. He watched Derek’s eyes track the movement.

“Why did you follow me?”

“Somebody had to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”

“Haha, very funny Derek. Isn’t that why you got me this ring?” He raised his hand for emphasis, before quickly lowering it when he realized he probably looked ridiculous.

Instead of answering, Derek reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small golden chain with a spiral on it.

“What’s that?”

“The merchant threw it in as a thank you.”

“What does it do?”

“Here, see for yourself.”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows before taking it from Derek and slowly bringing it up and around his neck. When he went to connect the chain around his neck, the two ends morphed together by themselves.

He glanced down and made a small ‘hmm’ noise when he saw the chain seemed to sparkle. He startled a little when Derek knocked his shoulder against Stiles’ and softly told him to look up.

When Stiles did, he gasped and almost fell over for the second time in the last five minutes.

“Oh my god Derek, what is that? Are you seeing this?”

Derek smiled, honest to god smiled, and shook his head. “No, only the wearer gets to see it.”

Stiles’ hands clutched the chain around his neck as his eyes were glued to the sky. Above him, hundreds, no thousands, no probably _millions_ of shooting stars were flying across the sky in a dazzling display of light. His eyes flew around, trying and failing to take everything in. Some bursts of light were gigantic, other’s just thin, wire like lines of light that cut through the air.

“Derek….what is that?”

“It’s the physical manifestation of all the spells being casted around the world. Anytime somebody does something…magical I guess… those lights appear.”

“This…this is amazing. How do you know this?”

Derek put his hand out, and if it were anybody else, Stiles would be sad to give back the necklace. As it was Derek, Stiles was just honored he had shared it with him.

“Peter gave one to Cora when he bought his ring. It…didn’t make it. I’ll give this one to her.”

Stiles’ eyes connected with Derek and he couldn’t seem to form words. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. After a few seconds, Stiles still couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away.

Derek seemed to get tired of waiting, as he turned away and starting walking back to the car. “C’mon, Kira got it started.”

Stiles felt like he missed something.

 

* * *

 

“Do you need…help?” Derek asked, eyes sweeping over Stiles and taking in his collective injuries. Derek’s face looked pained, but to be fair, there were multiple gashes in his side. Harpys could be real bitches.

“I think I twisted my ankle…” Fuck. He looked over to his side and saw Liam and Scott carrying a battered looking Isaac away and Lydia wiping blood off Malia’s face. A little ways further, he could see Chris making his way to each body and adding an extra arrow to each of the bodies. He looked back at Derek and…well, sort of lost it.

The world was spinning; all of a sudden his face hit the ground.

“Oww.” He mumbled.

“Okay, I’m going to carry you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am. You can hardly sit straight, let alone walk.”

“I am a man Derek.”

“…okay?”

“I’m going to get up and walk just fine.” He said all of this with his face against the mud and his eyes tightly closed.

“A man would know when to accept help.”

“Says the last person to accept help ever.”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you open your eyes?”

Groaning, Stiles does. The forest looks very odd from this angle. Also, when did Derek get so close?

“Come on, I’ll give you a piggy back ride.”

“I am a women,” Stiles moaned.

“Don’t be sexist.”

“Who the fuck are you right now?”

“Shit,” he heard Derek mutter. “Stiles what day is it?”

“Oh my god I was being sarcastic! Fine! Fine, fine fine fine fine. Crouch down you loser and let me climb you.”

He crawled onto Derek’s shoulders and felt arms come up around his thighs to support him.

“Why are you being so careful,” he mumbled into the skin on Derek’s neck. He pretty much lost the fight to keep his head upright the second Derek started walking.

“I don’t want to jostle your ankle, dumbass.”

“You say the nicest things.”

“You ask the dumbest questions.”

“Remember the time you threatened to kill me.”

“That was almost two years ago Stiles.”

“Still.”

“Just...let me do this. Please.”

“Alright.” Stiles didn’t really have much fight left in him. He let the tension release from his body as he sagged his entire weight onto Derek’s body.

“Don’t drop me,” he murmured into Derek’s ear. He felt him shiver, but that was probably because it was freezing out.

* * *

 

He was slow to wake. He felt like half his body was protesting the action, and he couldn’t help the groan that spilled from his lips. The next time that he was going to go up against Harpy’s…well, he wasn’t. Stiles is out. He’ll sit at home with a few hot pockets and a never-ending marathon of Game of Thrones and he’ll just slowly become one with the couch. Yes. That is what he’ll do.

“It’s about time, princess.”

Right. Pack crashed at Derek’s after the harpy fiasco.

“I smell bacon.”

Liam’s mouth quirked upwards and he shook his head.

“Of course breakfast is what finally gets your ass moving.”

Stiles slowly gets up, careful not to move his ankle. Which, what? He looks down when he can’t move it, and is surprised to see a makeshift cast where his foot should be.

“Wow. I’m impressed with myself. I really passed out didn’t I?”

“Breakfast is ready!”

“Aww, music to my ears.” He beckons for Liam to come help him, which he begrudgingly does, and wobbles with him over to the dining room table. Stiles can’t help but smile when he recalls dragging Derek’s ass to IKEA with a disheartened Scott and a frankly terrified Kira. They were there for six hours. They only bought eight things.

“This is the good life guys,” he mumbles as he sits down and immediately grabs a piece of bacon. “Saturday nights getting stabbed by Harpy talons and Sunday mornings feasting on Derek’s terrible cooking. Which. This toast is burnt.”

Derek glances up from his spot with a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t say anything.

“Like all the pieces of Toast are burnt. How did you do that?”

“Why does it matter to you,” Derek stares at his eggs like they just insulted his face. “You like them way too crispy anyway.”

Stiles’ hands pause as they reach for a piece of bacon, eyes shooting up to look at Derek. The table quiets, Scott’s and Liam’s as well as Kira’s and Lydia’s side conversations cease. After a tense moment Derek just shrugs and mumbles “toaster is on it’s way out,” and Scott has a mini choking attack; which, after Malia forcibly whacks him on the back a few times, successfully ends whatever odd moment Derek was having.

Stiles tries to catch Derek’s eye for the remainder of the day, succeeding some 40 minutes later. When Derek gives him a hesitant smile, Stiles can’t help but to beam back.

And later, when Stiles looks down and tells the room at large that he refuses to go home with a torn shirt with blood on it, Derek hands him over a blank white tee.

“Here. Keep it. I never wear it anyway.”

“Derek. You wore this last week.”

Derek turns his face.

“Different one. If you don’t want it that’s- ”

“No! No, thank you, I’ll take it. Uh…thanks.”

He doesn’t realize he has a stupid grin on his face for the rest of the day until Scott points it out around 9.

“Just…it was a good day,” Stiles shrugs. “We don’t get many of those.”

The sadness in Scott’s eyes is palpable, but so is the hope. He raises the beer they stole from the refrigerator.

“To good days then.”

* * *

 

**I got a job** – D

Stiles stares at the text for what feels like an hour. He’s still finishing his paper (God, the last one of his high school career) and he can’t look away from his phone.

**What** \- S

**The -** S

**Fuck -** S

**Dude -** S

**Where?!? –** S

**A contracting company in Woordsworth.- D**

Stiles isn’t sure why, but he feels his body tense. Wait. Sure Woordsworth is only the town over, but it’s still a good 40 mintues there and than the same amount back.

**Are you moving**? – S

**No, I’ll just work on projects they have here.** – D

He’s trying hard to process all the emotions he’s feeling. First is relief, because he was truly scared there for a second that Derek was moving out of Beacon Hills. Second is…well, he feels happy. And maybe proud? Derek’s getting his life back together again, and Stiles feels too much.

Holy shit he’s like feeling _too much_ right now.

Since when did he become so close to Derek?

**What are you doing tonight** – S

**Nothing** –D

**Perfect. We’re having a celebratory party** – S

* * *

 

“Derek,” Stiles slurs as he wraps his arm around Derek’s shoulders. “You’re an adult now. You has a real job and everything.”

“I think you’ve had enough Stiles.”

“What! No! This is a celebratioooon Derek,” his hands come up to grab Derek’s face.

“Wow, you have such nice stubble. Wish I could grow facial hair like that. Whenever I let it grow it comes in odd patches that noooooobody needs to see. Scott! Hey! Have you felt Derek’s face!”

“Stiles,” and whoa, Scott looks way to serious for the occasion. “Me and Kira are heading out, do you want to stay here awhile to sober up? I don’t think your dad would appreciate -”

“Why are you going though! It’s too early!” Ugh. Scott always wants to ruin the fun. Like that time they handcuffed Jackson and Scott wouldn’t let him take any embarrassing photos of him!

“Stiles. It’s almost one in the morning.”

Stiles head spins as he turns to Derek for confirmation. And…keeps spinning.

“I think I’m going to puke…”

He feels hands grab him and start to guide him towards the bathroom.

“Damnit Stiles, make it to the toilet,” is the last thing he hears before he throws up all over the plant he made Derek get. After that everything gets fuzzy.

* * *

 

At this point, Stiles is used to waking up on Derek’s sofa feeling some degree of pain. But he would gladly take a few claw marks over the pounding headache he has any day.

When he opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see Derek sprawled out on the floor a few yards next to him. And a trash can directly in front of his face. Ugh. Gross.

He groggily pushes the bin aside and looks around. A glass of water is near the couch on the floor, next to two Tylenol. God. Derek was the best. He checks his phone. Shit. It was 5 am. He hates his body.

“How are you feeling?”

Stiles startles a bit, looking over to Derek. He hasn’t made much of a move to get up, instead just turned his neck to survey Stiles.

“Umm. I passed out. Why are you on the floor?”

Derek rolls his eyes, and it somehow makes Stiles smile.

“I didn’t want you drowning in your own puke.”

He shrugs. “Dude, I haven’t thrown up since junior year. Have more faith in me.”

“You threw up all over those petunias you made me buy.”

Stiles’ smile dropped and he scrunched up his face.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I wanted to throw them out anyway.”

He scoffed and plopped back down. “I’m going to go back to sleep. Feel free to move up to your bed.”

He moves around until he finds a good position and sighs into the pillow. He hears Derek get up but than stop a few feet away form the couch.

“Thanks for the party Stiles. It…means a lot.”

He looks over, eyes wide and finds Derek’s.

“Did I tell you I was proud of you last night? Because I am.”

Derek grins a little, ducking his head like he doesn’t want Stiles to see.

“A few times actually.”

“Hmm. Not surprised.” He flops back down.

“Just…” Stiles turns to Derek again, and he can’t help to raise his eyebrows. Derek never initiates conversations twice in a row. Jeez, maybe his most social time is in the wee hours of the night.

“Just…you’re my best friend. So…thank you.”

Stiles sucks in a breath and he can feel his face heat up. He searches for something to say because, holy shit, how do you respond to that?

“Dude…”

Derek just smiles and wishes him a good night. Stiles watches him leave and wonders what the hell just happened.

“When did you get so corny dude,” he sighs into his pillow, knowing full well Derek will hear him. “But you’re the best too.”

* * *

 

Derek comes to their graduation and sits by himself in the bleachers. Stiles doesn’t know why, but all he wants to do the whole time is get up and leave his classmates and sit next to Derek, even if it’s just to make sure he’s not alone. Granted, Derek thrives on being alone, but Stiles cant’ help wonder if that’s just an act.

Regardless, Derek gives them all one of the biggest smiles Stiles has ever seen him give when their class, newly graduated, spills out of the building.

Derek got him an encyclopedia that details northern Vampires for a graduation present. He spends the next three days glued to it.

He also spent the entire graduation ceremony twirling Derek’s protection ring around on his finger.

He made it. _They made it._

* * *

 

The first few times Stiles catches Derek looking at him, Stiles brushes it off as Derek being _Derek_ being a creeper. Actually, Stiles just brushes it off every single time.

* * *

 

The pack gets an invitation the second week of summer. They are all crowded around Deaton’s office with equally baffled looks on their faces as they wait for Deaton to finish reading the letter.

When he’s done, he looks up and doesn’t say a damn thing. When Stiles raises his eyebrows, clearly saying ‘well what the fuck’ Deaton also raises his eyebrows.

“Umm, congratulations?” He says uncertainly, almost like he doesn’t know what they want him to say. Which. He’s the _worst_.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Oh my god is it true or is it not true!? Is that a legit invitation to intend a supernatural _convention_?”

“Well, yes Mr. Stilinski. It does quite clearly say that in the letter.”

“So it’s real?” Scott questions.

Deaton is now looking at all of them like they have three heads.

“Am I not holding a letter? Is this letter not actually here?” He waves around the parchment for dramatic effect because Stiles is certain Deaton is a little attention whore just like him.

Fourteen days later finds everybody but Liam and Malia congregating at Scott’s house before they all head to the airport. Liam’s parents still weren’t comfortable with their sixteen year old traveling to New York for a convention, and nobody really trusted Malia enough to be on a plane yet.

Stiles is just bringing his suitcase down from the porch when he hears Derek curse.

He hands his luggage to Derek and raises his eyebrow. In front of Derek is his opened suitcase with, wow, everything everywhere.

“Were you planning on bunking in the car? Cause it’s not coming with us to New York you know.”

“I forgot my damn sunglasses at my office.”

“What office?”

“My office?”

“You have an office.”

“Was that a question?”

“No. I just repeated what you said. Umm, you have an office?”

Derek is starting to look confused.

“Yes? Did I not just say that?”

“But I thought you were just a hired hand! I’ve visited you at a job site before! Remember when I almost fell off that scaffolding?”

“Vividly.”

“So you don’t have an office.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrow as he starts putting everything back in his suitcase.

“I’m confused by this conversation.”

“Is this ‘office’ in Beacon Hills or Woodsworth?”

“It’s here.”

“Well than let’s go!”

“What?”

“We don’t leave for another hour or so, and Kira isn’t even here yet! Come on I want to see this ‘office’.”

Derek grabs his hand and forces them down. He huffs out a _stop using air quotes_ as he quickly hauls Stiles’ suitcase into the car.

Twenty minutes later and…Derek has an office. It’s a little dinky room with no windows, but what it lacks in size it makes up for in smooth wood and dark polish. Turns out, three months after Derek got hired (and he waited a whole month before he even told Stiles about his new job!) they had promoted him to head all meetings with the Beacon Hills clientele.

Stiles had argued that Derek hates people and he must really have been suckered into taking the job that required more face-to-face time than the grunt labor.

Derek reminded him of that time he sweet-talked Regina while Stiles snuck past her and helped find Isaac. Which, eww. That was such a bad memory. But, Stiles supposed Derek did know how to use his looks for his advantage when he needed to.

“Man this is really nice,” Stiles murmurs as his hands touch the desk. He’s stopped when he sees a few picture frames on the far edge and his eyes glue to Laura’s face. He can’t help that tiny ( _huge_ ) stab of pity he feels for Derek, and he has to force his eyes away from her smiling face before he does something stupid like cry.

Jeez, if Derek lived it and is still functioning like a normal adult, Stiles should really be able to handle looking at her picture. Not for the first time Stiles thinks about how unfair he was to Derek in the first few months they had known each other. Dude’s life was literally the saddest lifetime movie come true.

But. What.

Next to Laura’s picture is a picture of their current pack, not even taken a month ago. Stiles had forced everybody to go to the new roller rink in Woodsworth, and he had also taken a selfie with his new selfie stick with everybody in the background. Stiles had put it on Facebook, but he knew for a fact that Derek didn’t have Facebook and therefore he has no idea how Derek had gotten it.

And. _Whoa_.

The third and final picture is of him, _his senior picture_ , the one he couldn’t put in the yearbook because it apparently wasn’t along the lines of what the school was looking for. Still, it was Stiles’ personal favorite, and it was the one he handed out to most of his friends.

After they had finished taking pictures at the park, him and his photographer grabbed ice cream. And…Stiles proceeded to spill it all over his shirt, and he couldn’t help but laugh. And he supposes the photographer couldn’t help but to snap a picture of the moment either (which, not creepy he always has to tell himself, he’s paying her to always have her camera ready).

He must have been staring for a while, because he jumps when a hand falls on his shoulder. He looks to the side to see Derek honest to god _smiling_ at the picture.

“You are such a dork in that picture. I use it every time I need an icebreaker with a client. I’m just like, look at this idiot.”

Stiles laughs and elbows Derek in the side. As they walk out, Stiles gives the three pictures, and the office, one last glance.

God, he’s so fucking _proud_ of Derek.

* * *

 

“I spy…”

“Shut up Stiles.”

“Aww come on! A few more rounds! We still have like two hours before we land in New York.”

…

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes Stiles.”

“Great. I spy something blue.”

“Your eye after I punch it?”

“You can’t play I spy if something is not actually in the room when you spy it.”

“I’m going to wolf out. Right here. In front of all these people. And I’m going to rip you to pieces. I spy something red and mangled.”

“Ohhhh good one, is it that girl’s hair over there? She really did a number on it.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Stiles smiles the rest of the way there.

* * *

 

Derek and Lydia are, unsurprisingly, the two that are the least excited to go in.

The basement of the convention has been magically enchanted to be about 32 degrees with a few feet of snow lining the ground. Snow falls from the ceiling, seemingly coming straight out of the concrete walls, and it makes for a breathtaking sight.

“Come on guys!” Scott looks at the two of them like they are crazy. “Look at all this snow! We never get snow in Cali! Come in and play!”

“I lived in New York, I’ve seen snow before. Thanks,” Is Derek’s curt reply.

“Yeah, I own a television. I’m good,” Is what Lydia has to add.

Kira just shrugs and forcibly throws Lydia in. She then comes back to join Isaac and Scott, and together, though Derek does put up a valiant fight, throws him in too.

Stiles can’t stop laughing at the sour look on Derek’s face as he stands up with snow in his hair only to proceed to stumble as the snow gives under his weight. He’s still laughing when Derek finally makes it to him and proceeds to grab his waist, lift him up, and throw him a few yards into a nearby snow bank.

“Oh my god!” He cackles as his body is assaulted by _a lot of cold_. It’s worth it when he looks up though and Derek is flat out laughing, a few droplets of water sliding down his red cheeks and his eyes practically glowing.

Until Stiles tackles him and treats him to his own medicine.

* * *

 

There’s a party the last night of the convention. A whole suit and tie affair that has Stiles redoing his tie over and over again with Scott and Isaac in the room they share.

When the three of them are finally ready they take the elevator to the first floor, expecting Kira and Lydia as well as Derek to already be there.

Scott and Isaac scuttle off after they spot one of their new friends they met during yesterday’s howling seminar, and Stiles, well…he spots Derek.

At the bar. Talking to a stunning blonde. And Derek’s _smiling_. And that’s _Stiles’_ smile. And he can’t believe it but a fierce, cold wave of _hurt_ and _jealousy_ and _anger_ washes over him and he has to turn away.

His heart is beating way to fast and he doesn’t understand why he’s acting this way but he feels his feet leading him out of the ballroom because hiding out in the hotel room sounds really good right now.

He makes it all the way to the elevators before he feels a hand on his shoulder and he’s jumping around.

And it’s Derek. Of course it’s Derek. Fuck.

“Hey! Yo Derek, my man! What’s up! Look I’m really tired so I’m just gonna,”

Derek’s grip tightens on his shoulder and his eyes narrow.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong? I’m totally fine?”

“You’re heart was going crazy back there. And you smell…like a lot of bad things.”

“Wow, you just know how to make a guy feel like a million bucks, huh!” He goes for sarcastic and humorous, but he’s pretty sure he missed by a continent or so.

Derek doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t let go of Stiles either. By this time, Stiles elevator already came and left, and he should really push the button again and get out of there.

“Just,” he calmly puts a hand on Derek’s chest and lightly pushes him away. Derek lets him.

“You go enjoy the night,” Stiles says resigned. Derek might as well enjoy himself. God knows he deserves it. “Got to make use of that king single you got, right?”

Derek’s eyebrows furrow.

“Stiles, what? I got the single because we were all paying separately and I can afford it?”

Stiles feels pinpricks in his eyes so he has to look away.

“Alright, okay Derek.” He pushes the button. “I’m still tired and I’m gonna go.” He’s fucking this up so badly.

He looks back at Derek because he can’t stop himself. His eyes are flickering between Stiles’, and he has that confused, calculating look on his face. But Derek’s not dumb, and he seems to eventually get it. His face softens, and his mouth kind of drops open.

Stiles can’t look anymore, so he turns when he hears the elevator ding.

And then before he knows it his back is being pushed against the wall of the elevator and Derek is attacking his mouth. His hands are huge on Stiles’ face, holding him still while all Stiles can do is moan.

“You idiot,” Derek murmurs as he stops for a split second to suck in air. Which, Stiles should really do that. He’s starting to feel very light headed and air sounds very necessary to life right now, but then again so does Derek’s lips and if he had to choose between the two there’s no way oxygen would ever win.

“To think…anybody could ever….” God, Derek’s just taking and taking and Stiles’ legs are jelly. “Compare to you,” Derek finally gets out as he disentangles his body from Stiles and reaches to hit their floor number. He keeps one hand on Stiles’ chest, keeping him pinned to the wall, and Stiles really shouldn’t find it as hot as he does.

“What?” Is what falls out of his lips.

Derek pushes Stiles up against the wall with his body again, and that hand is on his face again and God Stiles is a goner. Derek opens his mouth to say something, but it seems that nothing comes to him so he just closes it.

And in that small silence, filled only by the hum of the elevator, Stiles hears _everything_ Derek wants to say.

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up that night having to pee. His ass hurts like a bitch but he loves every second of it, and when he returns to their bed he wraps himself around Derek’s back and presses a small kiss to his neck.

“You’re my best friend too,” he whispers into his skin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> :) thanks for reading. Now go listen to the song ;)


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